The patron attempts to keep it straight as he approaches the bar. He steadies himself against the railing, and prepares a temporary disguise. In a moment, her interrogating eyes will be upon him. He assures himself that he has control as he calls her over. He staggers slightly while placing his order. As he grapples for the drink, he falls into a regular sitting on the stool beside him. The cherade is over…
Here, her authority manifests with excessive rapidity. “You’ve had too much to drink,” she states. Immediately, the drunk has lost the battle. He has had too much to drink. He realizes his loss as it presents itself before him. Despite any of the arguments which he may provoke, her words are his death sentence. He has already been before the judge, and received his sentence.
Her authority reminds one of the Detroit police raids during prohibition. She seizes his beer, and limits further consumption. For a moment, one believes that she might pose for a photo opportunity. The person that was just serving the alcohol ironically takes the Billy Sunday approach to the situation. Other patrons jump up to give him a seat. This is an instinct which her authority has conditioned. He is restrained, detained within the bar. That seat is his jail cell. The invisible bars are all around him. Allowing him to leave could mean her job, fines, and so forth. She’s not going to risk it, and he’s in no shape to argue. In fact, it would only be worse if he decided to take this recourse.
If he leaves, he’ll be exiled from the establishment. A shallow grave lies outside the door.
